Chapter 694: Severe

That day, the "Actor" party took Guo Fusheng's body and rode at full speed, changing horses in relays without stopping day or night, racing back to Jining Fort to deliver the intelligence.

Following the Jingbian Army's emergency scout protocols, this critical intelligence from the Intelligence Division was quickly delivered into the hands of Regional Commander Wang Dou.

"You've found the Tartars' lair?"

Every officer was stirred.

Hearing the circumstances, Wang Dou fell silent for a moment; Wen Daxing beside him also looked somber.

Guo Fusheng had been placed inside Guihua City on his orders, living undercover as a spy for two years.

Because he was fluent in Mongolian, he survived when the Tartars began hunting down and killing Han people inside and outside the city; he hid in the Tartar den, found an opportunity to pass the intelligence out, but ultimately did not pull through himself — the Intelligence Division has suffered considerable losses in the north.

In the end, Guo Fusheng was credited with the highest merit; Kong Shijue and the Night Scouts from the Vanguard Reconnaissance Camp who relayed the message were also credited with great merit.

Upon receiving this intelligence, Wang Dou immediately convened an emergency all-army council — the decisive battle had finally come; looking around at Li Guangheng, Gao Shiyin, Shen Shiqi, and the others, every face was alight with excitement, and Wang Dou himself was stirred: the time had come to settle Mobei once and for all.

When Wen Daxing pointed out the Tartar lair, a buzz filled the hall; everyone had a sudden sense of revelation — so the Tartars had been hiding there.

Wang Dou also studied that area on the large map: it was the northern foothills of the Great Qing Mountains, along the Little Yellow River, the territory that later generations would call the Siziwang Banner.

According to intelligence, the bulk of the Tartar women and children, hundreds of thousands of cattle and sheep, and numerous supply tents were all gathered there; under the command of Guluge and others who had fled back in panic, they were attempting to escape toward Mobei.

"Trying to flee?"

Wang Dou sneered inwardly: "Can they escape?"

Scene after scene of Han armies campaigning beyond the frontier through the ages flashed before his eyes; Wang Dou's expression slowly hardened into resolve: "The matter of Monan must be brought to an end. Let me lead the Jingbian Army and drink deep of Tartar blood."

On the seventh day, Wang Dou personally led the Guard Battalion, the Central Army Cavalry Battalion, the Loyalty Battalion, part of the Vanguard Reconnaissance Battalion, plus Wen Fangliang's and Gao Shiyin's feathered cavalry — nearly twenty thousand cavalry, all Grade-A troops under his command — northwest along the Miehuhai and Jinghuhai route, ascending the plateau and driving straight toward the Little Yellow River line.

Zhao Xuan's artillery battalion temporarily remained garrisoned around Shacheng Fort; Sun Sanjie's supply battalion likewise stayed behind, ready at any moment to transport provisions and fodder.

At the same time, urgent orders were sent to Han Chao on the western campaign: lead the Xuanwu Army's feathered cavalry plus Zeng Jiuyi's newly attached Mongol battalion, coordinate with Wang Pu's Datong Army main-force battalion of nearly ten thousand cavalry, advance directly north from Guihua City, cross the Great Qing Mountains, and thrust deep behind enemy lines — they must pin the enemy down and not let a single Tartar escape...

The autumn wind swept past, kicking up swirling clouds of dust; the ground ahead trembled as the Chuang Army's mounted troops charged closer and closer.

They surged forward like a tide, and in the blink of an eye, they had charged within a hundred paces.

Suddenly, some of the Chuang cavalry in front pulled their horses aside and veered off to both flanks — this kind of abrupt maneuver was often meant to provoke unsteady infantry into opening fire and loosing arrows; once the firearms were discharged empty and the cavalry closed in, it would be a one-sided slaughter.

But the New Army soldiers, veterans of the great Liaodong campaigns, had seen the Tartars' scattered riders and massed cavalry feint tactics countless times — this was merely a clumsy little trick; their battle formation did not waver, and they kept aiming.

Faster still, the Chuang cavalry rolling in from the rear entered eighty paces; they spurred their horses to maximum speed, the ferocious expressions on every face growing ever clearer — some were already preparing to shoot arrows, some preparing to hurl javelins and the like.

The majority, however, raised their long spears or brandished their great blades, howling as they readied for close combat.

At that very moment, a deafening volley of musketry erupted; dense white gunpowder smoke spewed outward, billowing up from the slightly fan-shaped front rank of musketeers; the muzzle flames joined into a single line, like a vast sheet of flashing fire.

Men screamed, horses shrieked — a chorus of agony.

Hundreds of firelocks fired in unison: fine firearms, high-power weapons, and excellent training combined to give this volley a devastating power that was hard to imagine.

Chuang soldiers and horses were struck down, man and beast alike; they had risen from starving refugees to foot soldiers, from foot soldiers to mounted troops, selected through bitter toil and immense effort — yet even cavalrymen skilled in mounted archery and horsemanship proved so worthless before the cheap firelock.

Howling, they tumbled from their horses, then were trampled into bloody pulp by the men and horses charging from behind.

Some horses also reared in terror, frightened by the uniform, thunderous sound of the firelocks.

Proper warhorses that do not fear cannon or the roar of firelocks were perhaps limited to the Old Camp; in the Chuang Army's mounted units, few men possessed such mounts — many cavalrymen rode mules or inferior nags that were easily spooked.

The New Army soldiers' combat did not pause; the front-rank musketeers hastily withdrew into the formation, and seeing the Chuang cavalry still rolling forward, the officers again bellowed at the top of their lungs: "Fire!"

The deafening volley rang out again; this time even more Chuang riders and horses were hit, and some blood-maddened horses in particular caused great chaos.

Yet the Chuang soldiers on horseback also loosed arrows and hurled javelins in return; some New Army soldiers were struck by arrows or hit by javelins.

At the same time, orders came from within the ranks: the pike formation was to advance — pikemen, prepare for battle.

Yang Shaofan delayed giving the order for the third rank of firelocks to shoot; his face expressionless, he simply watched the already considerably disordered Chuang cavalry continue forward — they surged on, closer, closer still, about to press into the minimum safe distance for musketeers facing cavalry.

More and more musketeers were also pierced through by hurled javelins, writhing on the ground in agony; the staff officers beside them were frantic with anxiety, yet could only wait for Yang Shaofan's command.

Twenty paces: the final rank of firelocks roared in unison, and fan-shaped rolling gunpowder smoke again billowed forward.

Struck Chuang soldiers and horses littered the ground; the hit rate of that last rank nearly reached fifty percent — those fine horses and fierce warriors at the front were almost swept away entirely, and the thick stench of blood assaulted every man's nostrils.

The third rank of musketeers, having fired, did not pause to observe the results but immediately fled to the rear; at the same time, row upon row of long pikes rose upright among the pikemen.

They were arrayed in six ranks: the first rank held pikes at a slant, butts braced against the ground; the second two ranks rested their pikes on the shoulders of the comrades in front; the last three ranks held their pikes slanted upward as well, forming a dense forest of pikes like a hedgehog's bristles.

The neighing of horses was unending; the already utterly disordered follow-up wave of Chuang cavalry reached the front of the formation, and every horse reared with front hooves in the air, halting before the formation with terrified whinnies.

The New Army soldiers' three-rank firelock volley had shattered the Chuang cavalry's momentum entirely; many of the fiercest men had been shot dead or struck down, and among the remaining horses, few were spirited enough to dare charge straight ahead — even the handful of horses that did crash forward were skewered like candied hawthorn on a stick, impaled upon the pike formation.

Only a scant few warhorses broke through, snapping several pike shafts and bowling over several pikemen.

The chaotic mass of Chuang cavalry came to a halt before the pike formation; under the officers' shouted commands, the first three ranks of pikemen swiftly changed tactics — the first rank now leveled their pikes, the second angled slightly upward, the third slanted upward: these three angles allowed both close thrusts and long-range thrusts, unhorsing riders from a distance.

Under their officers' direction, they chanted cadences and thrust relentlessly; in the blink of an eye, many riders were impaled by multiple pikes, their bodies riddled with bloody holes, blood spraying wildly.

Some riderless horses were likewise stabbed repeatedly by the long pikes, collapsing to the ground with pitiful cries.

The sound of pikes thrusting was unceasing, mingled with the dying screams of mounted soldiers; cavalry that lost momentum were nothing but targets for slaughter — amid waves of hoarse shouting, many Chuang riders were continuously unhorsed, and then multiple pikes stabbed viciously down at them on the ground.

Chaos reigned at the front; each rank of pikemen fought as they advanced, driving the Chuang cavalry steadily backward — many of them dismounted to fight on foot, but without formation, how could they be a match for the disciplined pike array?

By now the musketeers had also reloaded their powder and shot, constantly running forward to fire, which was an even greater calamity for those mounted troops; they coordinated with each other, attacking at range and in close quarters, and more and more of the cavalry turned their horses and fled — finally the Ming cavalry sallied forth, and the Chuang riders...

In the rear, Liu Zongmin, Hao Yaoqi, Yuan Zongdi, and the others had faces ashen as iron; they had not expected that a single rough probing attack would result in such grievous losses.

In that brief engagement, their own cavalry casualties numbered in the hundreds — these were not coerced starving refugees, nor foot soldiers who had merely survived a few battles, but mounted cavalrymen; losing ten or a hundred of them was heart-wrenching enough, let alone several hundred.

The facts proved that against the border army's battle formation, direct assault and hard attack were no solution; the only way was to drag and entangle them, wearing them down with starving refugees.

These veteran Chuang Army commanders, seasoned by countless battles, quickly found a way to respond.

When the Ming army took the opportunity to reach an abandoned village ahead, rested briefly, ate their midday meal, and resumed the march, the Chuang forces divided their encircling cavalry into numerous squads, harassing from front, rear, left, and right, launching frequent sorties — somewhat akin to the steppe nomads' exhaustion tactics.

All variations return to the same core; whether on the steppe or the Central Plains, whether Chinese or foreign, cavalry tactics are fundamentally the same — after the Chuang cavalry adopted these tactics, they indeed gradually began to yield results.

The immense power of infantry lies in forming a tight, disciplined battle formation; without formation, they are nothing but a rabble.

When cavalry are defeated, they can still flee in twos and threes — as long as their horses run fast enough, they can escape with their lives; if infantry are defeated, no matter how fast they run, they cannot outrun horses, and once the cavalry overtakes them, it is a tragedy.

Even when infantry defeat cavalry, they must still advance in formation when pursuing — they cannot scatter in twos and threes, or else if the cavalry wheel their horses and strike back, the result is likewise a tragedy.

Just like in the previous battle, although Cao Bianjiao’s main-force battalion pursued, they dared not chase too far, fearing they would be entangled by a large body of enemy cavalry and have their own mounted troops wiped out. The infantry also dared not stray from the cavalry’s cover, for without it their flanks would be unprotected — this is the disadvantage infantry face against cavalry, or a small cavalry force faces against a large one.

But if they kept to formation while marching, the drawback was slow progress. In fact, in many types of terrain, the entire army could not march in formation at all.

Moreover, under pressure from swarming enemies, maintaining formation over a long march exacted too great a toll on the men’s spirits; the soldiers also tired easily, leading to all sorts of problems.

Perhaps this was exactly what the Chuang cavalry hoped for — let the Ming army walk slowly, wait for their own main horse troops to arrive, or even for the main famine‑fighter force to arrive, and then they would have achieved their objective.

Cao Bianjiao certainly could not allow his army to march slowly. Had their grain and fodder been ample, he could have halted and held a standoff with the enemy, but moving so slowly meant that before long they would risk running out of provisions. Therefore he could only do his utmost to keep formation and march at speed.

This inevitably gave the enemy openings to exploit. Densely scattered all around, the Chuang cavalry surged back and forth in harassment — one wave had barely receded before another swept in. Their enormous numbers of horse troops rotated in shifts, which also allowed them to maintain ample horse strength and vigorous energy.

They feinted from beyond firing range, or made as if to close in. Once or twice this was bearable, but after many repetitions the arquebusiers could not help growing tense. Then one company of arquebusiers on the right wing could restrain themselves no longer and fired at a wave of bandit horse troops ahead that seemed about to charge, triggering a great volley of arquebus fire.

The bandits to the rear seized the chance to rush in, and were driven back only by the desperate counterattacks of the army’s spearmen and cavalry.

Although this was only an isolated incident, years of military experience told Cao Bianjiao that the army ought to halt and regroup. It would be best to stop and force a standoff with the enemy, so the soldiers could recover their vigor.

And although the new army was well trained and the officers and men still possessed a surge of bloody courage, the truth was that after campaigning so long in the south, with the experiences at Luoyang and elsewhere and all manner of exhaustion, the men’s nerves were already stretched to the breaking point. If everything snapped at once, the consequences would be unthinkable.

Only — could he afford to stop?

Marching in formation still had its vulnerabilities, namely the two wings and the rear.

Whenever the Chuang cavalry pressed toward the rear or the flanks, whether it was a feint or a genuine attack, they had no choice but to halt and face them, dragging down the entire army’s marching speed. After all, the rear guard and the advancing main body could not be allowed to drift too far apart, or they would lose contact — and the purpose of mutual cover.

At the hour of wei in the afternoon, Liu Zongmin organized another assault. They surrounded the army on all four sides, appearing to make the main attack on the frontal infantry formation but in truth striking at the cavalry on the two wings. In the end the Ming army won the victory, but Cao Bianjiao’s cavalry under his direct command was reduced a little further.

After that Liu Zongmin launched several more engagements aimed at the cavalry. Although the Ming army won every one of them, Cao Bianjiao could feel his strength being worn away bit by bit like this.

The enemy horse troops were simply too many. His own cavalry, though stronger than the bandit horse troops, were stronger only by a limited margin. Flesh‑and‑blood men trading blade for blade and spear for spear could not kill as easily as firearms could — that was precisely why Cao Bianjiao had decided to attack with his infantry battalions.

He even considered hiding his cavalry inside the protection of the infantry formations, but that would only slow the march even further.

The situation was growing dire. Cao Bianjiao had a premonition: the Chuang bandits were about to arrive with their main horse troops. Once they came, the infantry and cavalry’s breakout speed would become even slower. And if their foot soldiers and famine fighters arrived…

For a moment the thought flashed through Cao Bianjiao’s mind of having each battalion scatter and break out separately — that would reduce the target and make it harder for the bandit cavalry to determine which was the main force. Then he crushed the idea.

Unlike later ages, when the firepower of weapons allows all kinds of skirmish tactics and soldiers can simply flee in a swarm, in this era no infantry force facing a large body of cavalry had ever succeeded in breaking out — not even against the Chuang army’s horse troops.

Infantry breaking out against infantry was still manageable: soldiers would fight their way through the encirclement and run for their lives, and most could escape. But infantry against cavalry — no matter how fast the foot soldiers ran, they could not outrun horses. Even if they scattered the enemies in front of them, those enemies could quickly catch up again and once more close in and surround them.

Before their eyes stretched an endless wilderness with scarcely any place to take cover. On the plain, infantry trying to break out would lose their unit cohesion all the more easily. If it truly came to that…

“I will not abandon them!”

Cao Bianjiao said to himself, and extinguished even more firmly the thought of abandoning the infantry battalions. No matter what, he would not abandon his soldiers, would not cast aside his brothers. (To be continued…)